


marco's childhood with alexander

by xervos



Category: The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14722676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xervos/pseuds/xervos
Summary: Marco remembers little of the orphanage he grew up in. There was grey, grey, and more grey. It all seemed like a soft painting, disturbed only by the sharp cut of a precise suit worn by a man with features hard to remember. The man was grey, but stood stark against the backdrop of the others. Like he knew he didn’t belong.A character study on Marco Alisdair's childhood with Alexander.





	marco's childhood with alexander

Marco remembers little of the orphanage he grew up in. There was grey, grey, and more grey. It all seemed like a soft painting, disturbed only by the sharp cut of a precise suit worn by a man with features hard to remember. The man was grey, but stood stark against the backdrop of the others. Like he knew he didn’t belong.

Marco watched him from the window when he arrived. It was like watching a dream without the blur and cotton in his mouth and ears. The man took one step in front of the other, sure and confident. But when he went up to Mother, Marco saw the tired set of his shoulders and a weary gaze that seemed to hold fathomless knowledge. He was curious, and almost approached him, but one of his brothers called for him to play, so he followed.

Later, Marco is called with three other children, and he for some reason passes a test with unmentioned criteria. He leaves the orphanage with the Grey Man, and moves into a bleak little house with no one inside. People came and went for a while, and after a week, he begins his lessons. He enjoys it, learning that he could do what others couldn’t. (Though, he is reminded that anyone could do it with much study.)

He called it magic, when he was younger, fascinated by Arthurian legends about Merlin. Alexander corrected him soon after, saying that what they could do is nothing but a portion of the universe that they can manipulate. Because people only see what they want to believe, and they believe that what they do is false. Marco, not quite understanding, nodded. From then on, he called it manipulation. It didn’t sound as inspiring as _magic_ did, but it was better than something most believed was an illusion.

Before, when Alexander was around longer, teaching him spells and runes and symbols, Marco would hold up his finished work to him. Marco’s fingers were a bit numb from perfecting the spells, and ink stained his skin, shirts, and got under his nails. He never got what normal children received as a reward, but he was content with the small smile that Alexander gave him, if he was ever satisfied.

As Marco grew up, the smiles became rarer until they never came at all. Marco recalls the last one being the one right before the Bowen’s gold ring scarred his hand. He asked Alexander if he ever had any other students, and Alexander looked at him in muted surprise. It was not the way other adults looked surprised, like when Marco told the nice maid who brought him cookies for snack. It was not a small gasp hidden under a hand, eyes wide and curious, and interest curling into their mouth. Alexander’s eyebrows raised themselves up for a fraction, his eyes widening just a bit. His mouth becomes smaller and his head tilts slightly to the side. It lasted for a moment before his lips formed a rueful smile, and he nodded.

“Today we will learn about binding,” Alexander said next, and pain removed any other question about the others. A few years later, his lessons ended. There was a hollowness in his chest that he couldn't fathom. His home was bleak and grey, much like his mentor, and his new house was much the same. His forest of books remained, and so did the style of his clothing. Perhaps it was the lack of presence that he was used to. 

Even if Alexander seemed like an entity separate from time, his presence was always quiet but _there_. It wasn’t so comforting as it was calming, and him just being there was like being tied to the earth. It was easier to do his work that way, knowing that his pseudo-father was there, but it took a toll on him as well. The pressure to make Alexander smile was great, and his smiles were close to non-existent already.

Removing Alexander from the equation though, and Marco was free. So he chose not to dwell on the twinge of sadness in his chest and explored the small city. He kept practicing his lessons, on himself, on Isobel, on Chandresh. Eventually, the pain in his chest disappeared as he piled on the work, and he felt stable.

And then came Celia, and he felt it.

 _(“Alexander, of all the things you could have warned me, you could have warned me of_ this _.")_

**Author's Note:**

> The Night Circus is one of my favourite books and we don't really get to see how Marco really sees Alexander in his childhood, so here is the product of my wishful thinking.
> 
>  
> 
> [writing side](https://xevwrites.tumblr.com)


End file.
